


Test

by grey853



Category: Wilby Wonderful (2004)
Genre: Gen, Implied Slash, the f word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 09:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/grey853
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life tests Duck's will to stay sober.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Test

Duck thought he had it beat, thought he had a handle on the thirst that nagged and niggled with every waking breath, thought for sure he was finished with the craving that haunted him in his dreams. Turned out, it was just biding its time, ready to ambush him as soon as he let down his guard or when Dan left, whichever came first.

Funny thing was, he'd gotten used to being alone. Hell, he'd been alone long before his family died out. Sure he had a few friends, people to wave to, people he worked for, men he used to blow at The Watch, but mostly he lived his life alone. It was something he'd carried around since he was a kid, since he'd figured out early on how he was so different from everyone else, and he didn't think much about it most days. Some days it was all he thought about.

Then along came Dan Jarvis with his big brown eyes and long, lean body, and he got his hopes up, made the mistake of believing he'd finally found someone for his own, landed someone he didn't want to hurt and someone who wouldn't hurt him, either. 

Sure, Dan came damaged, came with more baggage than a ferryboat during tourist season, but Duck had a few serious cracks of his own. Nobody was perfect. Still, he'd thought for sure, would've put money on it, that he'd make it with Dan. 

Apparently, Dan wasn't so sure. He said he'd return when he could, but he'd made no promises that morning and neither had Duck. His Wilby world was suddenly way too empty.

Duck didn't usually smoke in the house, but then he didn't usually drink anymore, either. He stared at the glass, studied the amber liquid, imagined the burn down his throat, deep into his belly. He sniffed the fumes and shuddered. He wanted that drink more than he wanted to breathe, but he just stared at it, still stubbornly holding out, and took another long drag off his cigarette. He knew if he took the first swallow, he'd be a goner. It wouldn't matter if Dan came back or not. Dan's Duck would be gone, lost in his own nightmare, wandering around in sweet oblivion, his old stomping ground more than happy to have him back all wounded and broken.

The knock at the kitchen door surprised him. He rarely had company and when he did, people came to the front door. He waited and heard another knock and then a familiar voice. "Duck? It's Buddy. I saw your truck."

Fuck. He was in no mood to hear about Buddy's lousy marriage. Still, it was Buddy. Taking a deep breath, Duck stood up, his chair scraping the wood floor loudly. He opened the door, but not far enough for Buddy to enter. "What?"

"I thought you might want to talk."

"About what?"

Buddy cocked his head to the right, his dark blue eyes studying him intently, just like he used to do when they were kids. It was like he could see right inside him, see all the darkness, but still kept looking. "I saw Dan leave earlier. He had a suitcase."

"So?"

"Come on, Duck. It's me here. Let me in."

Duck surrendered. He never could say no to Buddy Fucking French. He shrugged and opened the door wider, motioning to a chair. "Have a seat then. You want coffee?"

"Sure, coffee's good."

Duck shut the door against the cold air, noticing Buddy staring at the bottle and the glass. "I didn't have any."

"I didn't ask."

"You were going to."

Buddy forced a smile as he ran a thumb over his right eyebrow. "Yeah, probably." He took off his jacket and then pulled out a chair, sitting while Duck poured two mugs of coffee. Duck handed one to Buddy and took the other to his own seat. He sipped and then smashed out what was left of his cigarette. He lit another before he spoke. "You didn't have to come. I'm okay."

"You sure about that?"

"His mom's sick."

Buddy leaned in, his elbows on the table, his hands clasped together in front of his face. "How sick?"

"Dying sick. Dan wanted to be with her before she passed."

Nodding, Buddy sighed. "Been there."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry."

"It's okay. Mom was sick a long time. I know you're not supposed to say it, but it's a relief when it's over."

"I guess. Mum died quick."

"I remember."

Duck pushed away the flood of painful memories of how his mother died of a stroke, died alone, died without any final words or letters while he was away on the Mainland. "Anyway, he'll be back. I just don't know when. Could be a few weeks or could be longer."

Not one for beating around the bush or being all that subtle, Buddy picked up the whiskey glass, holding it with both hands and staring at Duck. "You don't seem that sure about the coming back part."

Face heated, spoiling for a fight, Duck's heart raced. "Fuck you. It's none of your business."

Buddy didn't miss a beat. "How long you been sober?"

Duck hesitated, suddenly winded. "Long enough to want to stay that way."

"So, why the whiskey?"

Anger fizzled, Duck shook his head and then put his cigarette in the ashtray. He scrubbed his face with both hands before he answered, "Bad habit."

"You go to meetings?"

"Not for a while."

"Maybe you should, you know, just in case, just until Dan gets back."

"Yeah, maybe."

"I can drive."

"I can drive myself."

"Will you?"

Duck finally met Buddy's eyes and decided. "Yeah." 

"Good." Buddy stood up and slipped on his jacket. He emptied the whiskey glass and put it in the sink before picking up the bottle. "You want me to take this for safekeeping?"

Duck hesitated, his resolve wavering. He swallowed hard against his own want before he nodded. "Yeah. That's probably a good idea."

"You eat yet?"

"Not hungry."

"Why don't we grab a bite at Izzy's before the meeting? Carol's at some real estate conference. Sandra's actually doing some pretty good dishes these days."

"You mean Emily."

Buddy laughed. "Yeah, I do. Sandra never could cook worth shit."

"That's a fact." Duck smiled for the first time, thinking about the few times when their friend had tried to prepare meals and have parties, disasters every one. Luckily, her daughter had more of a gift with food and service than Sandra ever did or ever would. Emily was a good person, but, then again, so was her mom even if she couldn't cook a bean.

Buddy asked again, "So, you up for supper?"

Duck nodded, figuring he'd passed his test for the moment, even if he had cribbed off Buddy. Passing that test, staying sober, that's what mattered. Friends, meetings, waiting for Dan to come home, he'd take whatever motivation he could to beat the thing that crawled around inside him, lurking like some gun crazy outlaw just over the ridge. "Yeah. Let me grab my coat."

The End


End file.
